The road goes where it wants
to go; it takes you along.
Grey, asphalted, the Houdini road
throws gravel in your eyes,
hoodwinking with surprise.

A tyre-burst, a burn, a splintered bone –
the road makes you pay
for the travel in time and zone.

Traffic jams etch patience on
your creased brow, white
hair on temples, crow’s feet –
each wrinkle is a road sketched
on the map of your face.

In sheer self-seeking pleasure,
the road hugs its curves, and kerbs,
smirking at your hurry,
marvelling at your misery.

Awash with yellow blinding sunlight,
you sit at the window,
sweat trickling down your brow,
as the road stops by a family of four.
Harried parents, bawling babies,
helpless to board, too few pennies.

The road leaves, pitiless,
hauling the bus – “So long!”

The road stops when it wants to stop;
when it goes, it pulls you along.